“Bad enough. Got hit in the stomach. I didn’t need those three feet of intestines anyway, I guess. Rani stitched me back up and says I’ll be good as new, soon.”
“Who did this to you, David?”
He shook his head. “A good question. I have my suspicions.”
“I was in Yemen. Rain’s flat exploded while I was standing outside of it.”
“You were in Yemen? Ah, then that’s how you knew about the safe house,” David said, calculating rapidly.
“Yes.”
“I saw on the news about your adventure on the island. Looks like you took enough scalps to make them think twice about the wisdom of coming after you, though.”
“That’s why I’m here, David. I want to know who’s after me, and why, and how they found out I’m still alive. The only one who knew was you.” She spoke evenly, no inflection, but the accusation hung in the air all the same.
He opened his eyes. “That’s true. And I have an apology to make. I was stupid and sentimental. Careless. I’m sorry. I should have known better…” His voice lost volume as he visibly deflated right in front of her. His last words trailed off, and his head sank onto his chest.
She rose and moved to his side, surreptitiously slipping her palmed knife into the back pocket of her jeans, then put a cool hand on his face.
“You need to rest. I’ll help you to the bedroom. We can talk later.”
He nodded, out of it, and she eased him up, supporting him as they shuffled to the end of the hall and entered the bedroom. She lowered him onto the unmade bed, pushing the IV stand out of the way, and gently unbuttoned his shirt, avoiding dislodging the cannula taped in place in his left arm as she pulled the sleeves off. She hung it across the back of a nearby chair, noticing the bullet hole in the lower section of the fabric, the bloodstain obvious even after someone had tried to wash it out. His eyes opened with a flicker of pain, and she held up the end of the IV tube with raised eyebrows.
He nodded again.
She slipped the line into place and flipped the bag open. David’s eyes closed one last time, and his breathing became deeper. The stitches on the left side of his stomach were ugly, as was the discoloration around them, but his abdomen was only slightly swollen. She caught sight of a syringe and two vials and picked one up, raising it into the dim light so she could read the label. Morphine, half full. No doubt through the IV. That figured.
She returned to the front room and checked the Glock — a 23, she noted by the.40 caliber rounds in the magazine — then slipped the chain lock into place on the front door. Glancing around, she spotted a chair in the tiny dining room, which she quickly wedged under the doorknob.
The windows were the only other point of entry, but after a cursory inspection to ensure that they were all locked, she realized there wasn’t anything more she could do to secure them. She pulled the shades down, darkening the rooms, and after a survey of the refrigerator’s contents to confirm that there was enough nourishment in the flat to last a few days, she returned to the bedroom with the gun and settled into a padded chair in the corner, listening to the sound of David’s steady breathing: only slightly labored, any discomfort eased by the narcotic drip that was helping his body recover from the battering it had endured.
When David awoke, it was early evening. Jet raised her head and studied him from her vantage point in the chair.
He tried to get up, with difficulty.
“Do you need help?” she asked.
He nodded. “I want to use the bathroom.”
She disconnected the IV and supported him as they shuffled to the door. He gave her a pained grimace.
“I can take it from here.”
“It’s not like I haven’t seen the goods before, but okay. Scream if you need anything.”
A few minutes later, the door opened, and he stepped out, still weak.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“So-so. Rani told me to stay in bed. But it’s not every day that I have company over, so I thought I’d at least greet you…”
“With a forty-caliber welcome mat. Very touching.”
“It’s been a while.”
“Not that long.”
He returned to the bed and slid back onto it with a sigh of relief.
“Can you eat yet?”
“Given the injury, Rani suggested I stick to liquids for the first three days. Nothing too acidic. Vegetable and mild fruit juices blended with some of the protein powder and yogurt he’s got in the fridge.”
“Makes sense. He’s got enough food to sustain a small army in the cupboards, so you’re good.”
David smiled again. “Rani never liked to go hungry.”
“I know. I met him, remember?”
“That’s right. I’m sorry. I’m sort of out of it.”
“I noticed. But, David? We need to talk.”
“I know.”
“Maybe we can start with who attacked me.”
“I wish I knew. I have a suspicion, but that’s all it is.”
“Care to share?”
He reached out and grasped the hanging plastic tube and reconnected the IV.
“Later. I need to do some more thinking…but the ones that came for me spoke Russian. I heard one of them call out for help.”
“Russian?”
“I know. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. But it will.”
“Will?”
He was starting to fade again.
“Can you please change the IV bag when it runs dry? Probably in another few hours.”
“What would you do if I wasn’t here?” she asked.
“Rani is coming by after work. He’s supposed to be here by seven this evening to check on me.”
Just then, she heard the front door push open against the chair.
She grabbed the Glock and dashed into the living room, where a quick glimpse at the screen confirmed that Rani was on the stoop. “Coming,” she called, then moved down the hall to the entrance, slipping the gun into the waist of her jeans and pulling her shirt over it. She removed the chair and unlocked the chain.
Rani pushed his way in a few seconds later, a bag of groceries in one hand and his physician’s bag in the other. She wordlessly took the food from him and carried it to the kitchen as he walked to the bedroom.
A few minutes later, he returned.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Healing. There’s a danger of sepsis, and he shouldn’t move any more than necessary for another forty-eight hours, and then slowly. The good news is that he’s in remarkable physical shape.”
“How long will he be on the morphine?”
“He can start easing off it tomorrow. Pain is the worst during the first twenty-four hours following the surgery. From here, it should get more tolerable. But bear in mind, I had to cut part of his guts out.”
“That’s the technical term?”
Rani smiled.
“There isn’t a lot anyone can do for him now, except wait. Time will heal him or kill him. My money is on a recovery.” Rani got a glass of water in the kitchen and then headed to the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow. If he starts presenting with a fever, call me — that could be infection, and we need to keep a close watch on it. Beyond that, try to keep him down and resting.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
He scowled as he opened the door and stepped out.
